


Paranoia

by countrygirlsfun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Stiles, Based on a Tumblr Post, Evil Kate Argent, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orphan Stiles, POV Derek Hale, Past Character Death, Past Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Police Officer Derek, Sick Stiles, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4229274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrygirlsfun/pseuds/countrygirlsfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not paranoia if someone is after you.<br/> </p><p>Derek Hale is new in town and determined to solve the mystery of his neighbor who never leaves their apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paranoia

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this post](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/102800306733/joelvoice-derek-has-a-neighbour-who-never/) a lot and [this post](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/post/100720985308/iggycat-someone-needs-to-write-a-the-fire/) kinda.

Derek Hale is exhausted. He steps into the elevator of his apartment building and pushes the button to get him to the top floor. He doesn’t even notice he’s leaned against the wall of the elevator and let his eyes drift shut before the little bell dings and the doors open. He shakes his head a little at himself and tries to wake up a bit more. He shuffles down the hall to the end where his new apartment sits on the top corner of the building.

Today was his first day at a new station in Lakeville, a town a couple hours away from his home and his family in Beacon Hills. He’d been a cop in New York City for 4 years after graduating from the academy. But the distance from his family got to be too much so the compromise is here. His mother found the apartment for him and he has to admit as he unlocks the door and walks in, it’s pretty perfect. He moved in a week ago and has already met most of the people on his floor. In fact, he knows all the people on his floor except for the person who lives across from him.

He locks and deadbolts the door behind him before turning to throw his keys on the counter. As he walks through his apartment to his bedroom he pulls at his tie. He stays mostly awake long enough to peel out of his uniform and get his teeth brushed.

Derek’s bedroom shares a wall with the apartment across from him but he’s never heard so much as a sigh through the wall. His assumption that the wall must be thick and soundproof gets proven wrong when he goes to collapse on his bed. As he lays there, on the verge of sleep he listens to the soft music playing and hears whoever inhabits the apartment cough a few times. The last thing he wonders is if he’s going to need to get earplugs before he’s finally asleep.

His alarm goes off the next morning far too early for Derek’s liking. As he lays there trying to wake up he hears the coughing from next door again. It irritates him in his early morning stupor and gets up to get ready for his day.

He’s got to go back in for another long shift on desk duty. He knew switching police stations wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do but he hadn’t expected to be sentenced to sit behind a desk for his first two weeks.

While he makes his breakfast he as to admit to himself that all the time in the station will probably be a good thing in the long run. If he’s there for so many hours he’ll get to meet everyone between shift changes and day/night shift rotations. There are a lot of cops and detectives he’s got to meet and get to know and trust.

So he eats his eggs and sausage and fresh strawberries and sips at his first cup of coffee. He finishes and washes his dishes before he goes to jump in the shower. The warm water wakes him up the rest of the way and by the time he’s drying off and getting dressed the caffeine from the coffee has started to kick in. When he’s leaving, locking his door behind him he is fully awake and observant.

That’s why he notices the bag sitting outside his neighbor’s door. He registers it’s a grocery bag but doesn’t understand why it would be outside the door. Curiosity winning out over respecting the person’s privacy he peers in the bag. It’s filled with cough drops, Gatorade, a box of tea, a container of honey- Someone else must have noticed the noises coming from the apartment and dropped off a care package. The building is secure and Derek doesn’t peg any of the neighbors he’s met to be the thieving types so he leaves the bag alone and figures whoever is inside will leave sometime and find it.

He tries to put the thoughts about the bag and the resident across the hall out of his mind and goes to work. The bag is gone when he shuffles his way back home after another tiring shift and he doesn’t think about his neighbor at all when he collapses in bed.

Two days later the coughing next door stops and Derek doesn’t hear anything from the apartment across the hall for weeks.

>>>> <<<<

He’s been in this place for a month now and he still hasn’t met the person across the hall. He knows someone lives there because on his rare few days off he’s had in the last four weeks he could faintly hear a TV play and switch stations as well as a treadmill run and the rhythmic _thump thump_ of someone’s footfalls as they ran. It does nothing but stoke his curiosity because he hasn’t even seen them in passing in the hallway or heard their door open or close. He’s never heard the jangle of keys approach the door or seen the garage next to his open.

So he knows someone is inside, and he knows they don’t leave. But the thing is, being a cop, Derek knows that it isn’t always what it appears. Is the person in there plotting something? Are they being held against their will in there? Are they agoraphobic?

He hopes the person is simply reclusive because of a phobia. The alternatives are less than comforting. Of course, now that His interest has been peaked and he’s still curious weeks later he does something about it. And when you’re a cop, solving mysteries is not only something he’s become good at but there’s also all the resources he has at his fingertips. Is it completely legal? Probably not but that doesn’t stop Derek from finding out exactly who lives across from him.

Walking in to the station the day he decides to find out who lives across from him he finds himself nervous. He steels himself and puts on a mask of indifference. It’s something he perfected once he grew into his ears and people wouldn’t stop hitting on him. He walks with confidence through the bullpen and goes about business as usual.

He grabs his coffee and a doughnut, stereotypical yes he knows, and goes to his desk. He logs into his computer and pulls up the programs he uses day in and day out when he’s on desk duty. Derek checks his email and the files waiting on his desk. He does his work and only after he’s all caught up does he even begin to investigate his apartment building and its occupants. He gets lost in the search and doesn’t notice his coworker until she perches herself on his desk.

“Deputy Hale, what in the world could be so fascinating that you haven’t moved or responded to anyone in the last five minutes?”

He sits back from where he was hunched over the desk and sighs before turning to look at her with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Like you’ve never gotten caught up reading something, Erica? I seem to recall losing your attention for forty five minutes last week when you were researching the dungeon we were trying to bust. You didn’t move for a solid half an hour while you read about what a dominatrix can do with a whip.”

The blonde bombshell scoffs and flips her curls over her shoulder before she slides back off his desk and concedes the argument. Erica Reyes is not someone Derek ever wants to cross. She’s fiery and strong and smarter than she gives herself credit for. She reminds him of his sisters and Derek has had no problems striking up a friendship with her in the short time he’s been in town. Plus, they may have sparred together in the station gym and Derek may have ended up flat on his ass the first bout.

She leaves mainly out of indifference Derek figures. They’re cops, naturally inquisitive. It’s not that surprising that they spend time looking into things that aren’t directly related to a case. Still, he doesn’t do much more digging than what he’d already found.

The lease agreement and background check he pulled up from the apartment managers both have the name Nick Greenburg on them. The background check cleared and when Derek looks, the guy doesn’t have a criminal record. In fact, Derek can hardly any record of a Nick Greenburg anywhere in California. The apartment manager couldn’t be charged with spotting a fake identification but Derek knows the signs when he sees them.

Quite literally the only two things that have the name ‘Nicholas Greenburg’ attached to them are the apartment lease and a checking account at the local bank.

So even after he goes to the trouble of misusing his work resources he is still at square one. In reality he has more questions now than he did before. Because now he doesn’t know if the person behind the name Greenburg is trying to hide their own actions, being hidden or if they’re hiding _from_ someone.

Now he almost wishes he would have just run with the agoraphobia assumption. That he could have dealt with. Derek isn’t one to judge other people’s mental stability. Not after his own uncle Peter, who was really more like an older brother or cousin, went ~~a little~~ a lot crazy five years ago. Peter had married his best friend and they were expecting their second child after just 5 years of marriage. It was while Peter was away for work that his ex-boyfriend decided to act. Peter came home from the trip to a burnt down home and a dead family.

Derek and his family all knew about the man Peter had dated before marrying Rachel. They also knew that Chris Argent had been heartbroken when Peter ended things. It made all the sense in the world for it to have been Chris or even his equally vengeful and mentally unstable sister Kate. The problem was there was little to no evidence they were involved. But Derek also quickly learned, there wasn’t any evidence to suggest they were not involved either.

Greif can do funny things to people’s brains and Peter was never able to recover. Derek had taken time off and come home from New York to try and help his parents and siblings with dealing with Peter. But after a while they all decided they couldn’t give him the care he needed in their house and had him committed to spending some time in Eichen House to see if they could help him.

So Derek would have been fine dealing with a neighbor with a phobia. It just would be nice to know if that really is the reason his neighbor never leaves their apartment.

>>>> <<<<

Good things, it turns out, do indeed come to those who wait. Since Derek couldn’t piece together the information he had into anything that made sense he changed tactics. His efforts in finding more information about ‘Nick Greenburg’ were fruitless so he worked with what he had. And what he had were the credit cards registered to that name.

He set up a program on his computer to monitor the card activity. It gave him a sense of peace knowing that whoever was living across from him quite literally only purchased normal things. Derek quickly caught on that through the power of the internet and FedEx whoever inhabits the space across from him has no reason to ever leave their apartment. There are orders for groceries, take out, movies and books from Amazon. There are even orders for toiletries and cleanings supplies from Walmart.

Having comforted himself that, at the time, the mystery of the next door neighbor may not have been solved, at least he was keeping an eye on things. He went about life as usual and the curiosity faded as he threw himself into his work.

He’d just gotten home from buying groceries and wanted nothing more than to put his food away and relax for the rest of the evening. After the last of his purchases were put in their proper places it happens.

The fire alarm goes off.

He pauses for a moment in shock before he reacts. He darts into his bedroom and grabs his backpack. He throws his laptop, his copy of the first Harry Potter book that his dad gave him, and a sweatshirt into the bag before he slings it on his back. He grabs his gun and his badge and tucks them both in his jeans haphazardly before finally grabbing his phone, wallet and keys to leave.

He’s heard multiple doors slamming and footsteps in the hall while he got his most important objects gathered. So by the time he’s in the hall locking his door most everyone has left his floor making their way down the stair case. He can’t be- chances are it’s a fluke, or someone burnt their popcorn. But in the off chance it’s a real fire Derek can’t take any chances.

He turns away from his door and steps across the hall to the door across from his own. He knocks before he loses his nerve and yells to be heard over the blaring alarms.

“Lakeville Police. There could be a fire, if you don’t evacuate the premises I _will_ pick the lock on this door and carry you out.”

To Derek’s surprise the door opens moments later.

In Derek’s mind he’s built up an image of what his hermit like neighbor looks like. He’d pictured someone his height or a little taller, skinny and haggard. He’d pictured someone his parents’ age unshaven and unkempt. He’d imagined a lack of personal hygiene and style.

So Derek may be gaping a little at the person who emerges from apartment 602.

He’s- Derek stops staring and turns to walk down the stairs. He looks over his shoulder and makes sure the young man is following him. Once he’s sure the guy is going to follow him out of the building he focuses on getting himself down the six flights of stairs and keeping himself between his neighbor and anyone else in the stairwell.

Most of the residents have crowded on the lawn to the side of the building out of the way of the firemen. Derek steers his newly met neighbor around to the back of the building where his car is parked and there’s no one to stare and wonder if this guy is the mysterious tenant of 602. He unlocks his car and opens the passenger side seat to the man who promptly crawls in and shuts the door behind him. Derek doesn’t watch him slouch down in the front seat in favor of turning around to stand watch, arms crossed as he leans up against the back fender of his Camaro.

This, of course this would happen because this is just Derek’s life. Of course the recluse isn’t some creepy, gross old man. No, no he has to be the embodiment of pretty much everything Derek finds attractive.

The man who lives across from him is almost as tall as Derek is; he figures if they measured Derek might have half an inch on him at most. He’s got strong wide shoulders and sinfully toned forearms and don’t get him started on his hands. Those hands _do_ things to Derek.

He has to stop himself because he’s inadvertently perving on his neighbor of whom, he knows absolutely nothing. Well, he has assumptions but he knows nothing that’s concrete or definite.

‘Greenburg’ has the most amazing brown eyes, a nice upturned nose that just fits his features so well. Combine the moles that give his flawless complexion character and the flustered blush that appeared as he bustled out of his apartment and Derek knows he’s in trouble. He was wearing skinny jeans with a t-shirt and a hoodie and Derek couldn’t dream of looking that put together in those kinds of clothes. The guy’s hair even appeared to have been effortlessly tousled.

Derek has to spend time channeling what Laura would tell him to wear nearly every morning and spends far too much time getting his thick hair to do what he wants. This guy though, it’s like he’s this good looking and it’s completely natural. Like he probably rolls out of bed and looks that lovely.

He startles a few minutes later when the door pops open and ‘Greenburg’ pops his head out of the car looking at Derek curiously.

“Can I see your badge?”

His voice is a little scratchy and Derek wonders when the last time he talked to someone was as he pulls his badge from his back pocket and then for good measure plucks his shield from his waistband. He hands them over and Greenburg doesn’t close the door again as he examines them.

“So why are you doing this Officer Derek Hale?” he asks when he hands Derek back his identification.

Derek shrugs unsure as to what the right answer is. I’ve been concerned? I know you never leave and don’t know why? Are you hiding from the good guys or the bad guys? I want to know the reason I’ve never seen or heard you leave your apartment in the entire time I’ve lived here?

“Just doing my job.” He settles on but the guy quirks an eyebrow at him with a stern look.

“Your job normally entails threatening B&E on unsuspecting residents?”

Derek opens his mouth to say something when the door shuts abruptly and he turns to see a fireman walking around the corner of the garages.

“The situation has been resolved. You’re free to return to your apartment.”

“What was the reason for the alarms?”

The firefighter smirks and shakes his head, “Overcooked pot roast.”

Derek chuckles and thanks the man. He’s met him once Derek thinks, his name is Luke? Liam? Something like that. Once the man is turned back around and making his way back to the fire truck Derek hears the door open behind him and Greenburg gets out. After the door shuts Derek locks the car doors again and with a single questioning glance over his shoulder starts to walk back into the building. He should have waited but no one is in the back of the building using the second elevator anyway so they ride up to the top floor in silence together.

Greenburg gets off the elevator first and walks quickly to his apartment door. Derek follows him sedately and gives the guy time to get himself back into his apartment before Derek makes it to his own door across the hall. He makes his way back into his apartment and puts his prized possessions back in their respective places and his backpack back in the closet by the front door.

He can’t help but hope that tonight won’t be the only time he sees his mysterious neighbor.

>>>> <<<<

It’s a week later and Derek wakes up on his day off ready to do nothing that involves leaving his apartment. And even that is still being adjusted. He might change it to not leaving his bed at all. He’s up getting himself food before he burrows back into his blankets when there’s a knock on the door. He’s glad he’d thrown on at least sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt when he looks through the peephole and sees ‘Greenburg’.

He unlocks the door quickly and opens the door. This time the guy is wearing sweatpants and a hoodie but he looks just as healthy and well-kept as before.

“Hi.”

The guys smirks.

“Hi, may I come in?”

In shock, Derek simply nods and steps out of the doorway allowing the man into his apartment. He watches the guy simply walk past Derek and turn around to wait for him to close the door. Once Derek gets himself to unfreeze he does so and turns to face his unexpected visitor.

“Derek Shawn Hale,” he starts smiling at Derek’s expression and starts peering around Derek’s open apartment as he continues. “Born on April 8th to Talia and Andrew Hale in Redding, California. Recent addition to the Lakeville Police Department after spending the last few years in the NYPD. You prefer running as opposed to lifting weights but do both for your job. Tech savvy and street smart. Put more guys behind bars in New York than any other detective in your precinct. Mostly closeted bixsexual man who spends his free time holed up in his apartment only visited, thus far, by your family. Pizza is your guilty pleasure but you like your abs more than you like eating it for every meal. Lastly, I speculate that you honestly drive that 2014 Camaro simply because it’s fun and not because you’re compensating for something.”

Derek doesn’t know whether to be insulted that he’s so easy to read, worried at the depths of his neighbor’s knowledge or impressed with the guys investigative skills. He settles for a middle ground.

“I can’t decide if you’re more like Sherlock Holmes or Felicity Smoak.”

To his amusement the man laughs and oh, that, Derek could watch that smile for ages.

“Either way I’d be flattered at the comparison but I see myself more similar to Batman.”

Derek snorts to himself because, self-aggrandizing much?

“Whatever you say, Mr. Wayne.”

Derek cannot believe he is standing here flirting with this guy. He needs a solid reality check because, hello, you know nothing about his guy. His realization must show on his face because the man pulls a slip of paper out of the pocket on his sweatshirt and hands it to Derek. Derek looks down and sees what must be a name but given it’s spelling- he’s got no earthly idea how to pronounce it.

“That is my name. I figured it’s only fair that I give you the chance to know who I am since I know, probably too much about you. Use that name in your search but you can call me Stiles. And please, call me Stiles when you use the phone number there after you’ve done your research.”

He steps towards Derek and Derek sidesteps to give him access to the door. The guy- Stiles- puts his left hand on the doorknob and extends his right hand for Derek to shake.

When Derek takes his hand, grip firm, Stiles says, “I’m trusting you, Mr. Hale, trusting you not to tell anyone else who lives in apartment 602.”

Derek nods and Stiles lets go of his hand, opens the door and leaves.

He is only mildly embarrassed to admit that he stands there staring at the door for a solid minute before he grabs his food from the kitchen counter and goes right to his bed where his laptop was already on and waiting for him to pick out a show on Netflix.

Instead, he opens his work programs, which he just got approved to use from home, and starts a search on ‘Przemysław Alec Stilinski’.

>>>> <<<<

It takes hardly two hours before Derek feels like he’s dug far enough and knows what he should about his neighbor Stiles. He punches the phone number from the post-it into his phone and calls him. It rings all of twice before Stiles picks up.

“You’re faster than I gave you credit for Mr. Hale.”

“Please, call me Derek. Mr. Hale is my grandfather.”

Stiles laughs lightly down the line.

“Ok, Derek. I would assume that you have questions?”

Only about a million.

“You would be correct, Stiles.”

“Well, how about I finish up this stir fry I’m making for lunch and bring it over so you can ask them?”

Derek doesn’t have to think about it before he replies in an affirmative. He hangs up with Stiles and makes his way out into his apartment. He cringes as he takes in the general state of disarray and spends the next fifteen minutes tidying the place up before Stiles is knocking at his door for the second time. Derek lets him in and while Stiles returns to lock his apartment door Derek grabs bowls and glasses for each of them.

Once they’re both seated at the table with their meals Derek starts; he goes over what he learned in the last hour and a half about the young man currently sitting across from him.

“Stiles Stilinski. Born to John and Claudia Stilinski on May 9th in Beacon Hills, California where you grew up the son of a cop and later the county Sheriff. Your mother died when you were eight and you graduated salutatorian from Beacon Hills High School. Graduated with honors from MIT with a degree in computer science. Your father was killed shortly after graduation and his murderer was never found, the lead detective figured it was a contract hit given the method and the weapon used. You yourself moved into apartment 602 nine months ago and I would guess haven’t left since. You run to stay active and while I don’t know exactly why you’ve secluded yourself I have two guesses. Paranoia, justified or unjustified.”

Derek stops and Stiles gives him an impish grin.

“Justified. My dad was working on a case. A cold case. Little evidence but he’d found a lead and that meant new supporting evidence of what he’d assumed from the very beginning of the case. The Hale fire was definitely perpetrated by Kate Argent and her veritable army of foot soldiers. My dad figured it out and put her away. Two weeks after she’d gone kicking and screaming that he’d pay and she’d be back for me, he was dead and I became an orphan.”

Stiles stops at that and looks down at his plate. Derek has to resist the urge to reach across the table and cover Stiles ' hand with his own. The expression on his face makes it clear the losses are still raw, that it's still painful to think about even these few years later. The expression of grief fades from his features and Derek watches a mask form when Stiles looks back up at him to continue.

"I tried to get on with my life. I didn't quit my job, didn't abandon my friends. I didn't let her crazed threats get to me until I got a letter in the mail. A letter detailing Kate's early release date and a note written at the bottom warning me of my impending demise as she was going to come after me as well in revenge for her time spent in jail. I don't- I don't know how well you knew Kate Argent?"

He gestures toward Derek as if giving him permission to enter the conversation.

"I, uh, I know she dated my uncle or rather pretended to date him while her brother was actually the one dating him? Something about a disapproving father? I wasn't involved in Peter's life at that point."

"You're not wrong on those counts. But some background. The Argent family are arms dealers. Perfectly legal but their methods of security are quite...intense. Both Kate and Chris are trained in multiple types of martial arts and both qualify as marksmen with multiple types of weapons. All of which they sell."

Derek watches Stiles pause and close his eyes as if bracing himself or searching for his words. Only a moment later Derek gets pinned with an intense look from him.

"If you think someone's out to get you they probably are. My dad was dead, I worked from home and my friends were all out of town on vacations with their significant others. I told the woman I love like a second mother that I was leaving but I didn't tell her anything else about where I would be. I left and moved here. It was easy enough to create that fake identity to rent the apartment under and I've been here ever since."

Silence falls and Derek can’t imagine how Stiles can think that's an appropriate place to stop explaining. He still has so many questions but after a moment he decides what's most important.

"Not that I don't...appreciate the knowledge, trust me I've been curious for weeks now but I couldn't get further than your alias. I just wonder what changed. Why tell me all this? You don’t know me beyond some facts you’ve been able to find or deduce. Why open up? Why let me in?"

"Technically I haven't let you in," he says with a cheeky grin that makes Derek blush lightly in surprise. Stiles laughs quietly before his brows furrow in thought.

"None of my friends have any kind of training in law enforcement or investigating. My best friend’s fiancé is trained in mixed martial arts but that's it. I couldn't involve them in this because I can't protect them. I- I've been alone for the past nine months and when I found out who you were it was like- like fate put you in the apartment across from me. Because who else could I tell but a police officer already connected to the case I'm working?"

Stiles shakes his head, more at himself than Derek he figures.

"Fuck, I'm not embarrassed to say it: I got lonely. Derek, I- I figured I could trust you to back me up and help me if I ever needed you to. I mean you were already willing to break into my apartment to carry me to safety. That was before you even knew what I was doing never leaving my apartment. I would guess you probably thought I was some sort of criminal or mental patient hiding away from the world."

Derek cannot believe how this is going. He has literally known this man’s name for less than three hours but sitting across from him eating a meal and listening to him tell his story it’s ridiculous how much he’s becoming attached. And knowing that he’s not a criminal or a hermit but he’s actively hiding from a real, credible threat just makes Derek want to find Kate Argent and stop her from hurting anyone else ever again.

"Well, as much as I want to believe you, we just met. I know your explanation is logical and probably the right series of events but, as you obviously know already: I'm a cop. I'm going to need some evidence before I just blindly promise to have your back here. As much as I want to." 

To Derek's relief Stiles smiles softly and nods in agreement. 

"Good. That’s good. I can't show you everything but I'll show you the threats."

"I appreciate that, Stiles, really. Now, what all does being ‘in the know’ require from me?"

“Mostly? Silence. Don’t tell anyone about me, don’t do any more searches or look up any more information about me. I’ll give you a few pieces of evidence to prove that I’m in danger but at this point that’s probably all you’ll see. I’m building my own case here but when I’m done I’ll need you to make the arrests.”

Derek tries to keep the disappointment off his face that that is all Stiles wants. He nods his agreement though feeling ridiculous for the sinking feeling in his gut that Stiles didn’t ask to keep talking to him. But really, Stiles said it: Derek will just be there to make the arrest. Derek is just a connection in law enforcement. That’s it.

“I can do that, Stiles.”

Stiles shoulders relax at Derek’s words and his lips tug up into a barely there smile. They finish their meal talking about movies and tv shows and debating the merits of Netflix versus Hulu. After the dishes have been washed and Stiles is clearly leaving, he hesitates at the door. Derek looks at him curiously, waiting for him to figure out what he wants to say. He watches Stiles shift his weight from foot to foot nervously and fidget with his fingers for a moment.

“Can I text you?” Stiles says suddenly.

“Like, about the case?” Derek asks confused but Stiles shakes his head before ducking it and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, no like just text you.”

Derek waits for Stiles to peek back up at him through his lashes before smiling widely.

“Yeah,” Derek admits as Stiles raises his head back up to look at Derek with something like hope blooming on his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“O-okay then,” Stiles stammers and opens the door into the hallway. “I’ll text you then.”

Derek steps forward and grips his door, watching Stiles get in to his apartment.

“I look forward to it, Stiles.”

Before Stiles can get the door shut behind him Derek sees a blush starting to form on Stiles’ cheeks. He laughs to himself because clearly, Derek isn’t the only one excited to get to know the other.

>>>> <<<<

The day after his impromptu lunch with Stiles, Derek has to go back to work. He’s just sitting at his desk, going through an email about an update on a case he’s working with Erica when he hears her gasp. He looks up, confused when he sees her and Boyd standing in the doorway staring at him.

She’s staring at him jaw dropped exaggeratedly and she looks shocked at something. In his defense, Boyd looks surprised too, as much as he conveys any emotion so Derek must have something wrong with his hair or something. He gives her a look and pats at his hair but she stays frozen until Boyd puts a hand on the small of her back and forces her to walk in to the squad room.

Derek knows there’s something going on between those two. He doesn’t know if they’re keeping it quiet because of some policy about interdepartmental relationships or if they’re just private. They walk over to his desk and Erica hasn’t changed her shocked expression in the slightest.

"You're smiling." 

He hums at her not quite listening yet. 

"Boyd, he's smiling and not listening to me."

Derek's chair gets jerked around and backed up against his desk as Reyes and Boyd box him. 

"You got laid," Erica almost squeals in glee and Boyd flinches at her high pitch. 

Derek scowls at her. 

"No, I didn't," he grumbles. 

"I don't believe that. You either solved a case or you got laid and you're still working on the Sanchez case!" 

She points over his shoulder at his screen and he rolls his eyes.  

"Just because this is our active case doesn't mean I couldn't have solved something else. Now if you don't mind?"

He raises his eyebrows expectantly and shoos at them until they leave. It's not surprising he got caught smiling. After he and Stiles finished their lunch and did the dishes, Stiles went back to his apartment and brought back Derek some proof right away, blush still dusting his cheeks.

Stiles hadn't stayed but he left Derek with the letter announcing Kate's early release date and the threats written in. It was already in an evidence bag, fingerprinted and labeled. All Derek really had to do was run the fingerprints and verify the letters authenticity. Stiles didn't give him permission to run any other tests on the paper so he slips it back under Stiles door that night when he goes home.

It's surprising how excited he gets when Stiles texts him later that evening. 

**Believe me now? >> **

Derek smiles a little as he types his response. 

**Almost. It might take another round of stir fry before I’m completely convinced. <<**

>>>> <<<<

Sometimes in life though, things don’t go exactly as they should or as people want. So while Derek wanted little more than to sit across from Stiles and share another meal it never happened. Life intervened and Derek got new evidence on a case he was assigned to shortly after getting to Lakeville. Somebody has been killing people and then cutting them in half. Given the excessive level of violence, and the body count, Derek and Erica were given priority on all resources. Identification, autopsies, forensics, they’re always at the top of the list getting their answers before anyone else. Even with the wealth of information it still takes them ages to put the puzzle together.

With the new evidence Derek has been working for two weeks straight hardly stopping to even sleep. He didn’t think it was possible but after a fortnight of late nights, too much coffee, and theorizing they finally have the connection they’ve needed to the suspect.

Katherine Argent.

But knowing who they’re looking for and actually find her are two very different things.

Especially since once they’ve identified the final connection between her and the murders the killing stops.

Even with the stress of the case, Stiles and Derek texted regularly since that dinner and Derek keeps learning more and more about Stiles even as he spends most of his waking hours at work. But while they text everyday sometimes it’s hours between responses. Either because Derek is working or Stiles doesn’t respond so for a lot of the time, their conversations get spread out over days instead of just hours.

When Derek finds out Kate’s gone underground his captain sends his exhausted self stumbling home. He realizes, when he’s struggling to get his door unlocked and Stiles’ door opens, exactly how long it’s been since their dinner together. It’s been over a month since he’s seen Stiles’ face and as he blinks his tired, bleary eyes at him he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful.

It could be the exhaustion talking, because as Stiles reaches down and picks up Derek’s keys from the floor he thinks even Stiles’ _hands_ are beautiful.

Derek leans against the doorway to his apartment and when Stiles stands back up his cheeks are pink.

He hears Stiles say, “What, these skinny guys?” and realizes he must have voiced that particular thought out loud. Damn. If he wasn’t falling asleep standing up he’d be a little more embarrassed.

Stiles gets the door open, throws one of Derek’s arms over his own shoulders and hefts him into the apartment. Derek shuffles along trying to not put his weight completely on Stiles. He thought he was accomplishing at least that much but the way Stiles grunts when he lays Derek down on the bed makes Derek think he was less than successful. Stiles stands and puts his hand out like he’s waiting for something but Derek just stares at him confused.

“Dude, I am not going to dig through your pockets. Give me your gun and your keys.”

Derek mentally startles when Stiles asks for his gun but somewhere not so very deep down Derek trusts him. Apparently, he trusts Stiles enough to hand it over and point to the open safe which Stiles immediately deposits the weapon into after taking the magazine out and checking the safety.

“You can come get your keys when you wake up. You know where I’ll be.”

Derek nods and rolls over to clutch at his pillow. He hears Stiles’ lock the door behind himself and falls asleep before he can even set an alarm on his phone.

Derek sleeps for 12 whole hours.

When he wakes up his brain is fuzzy and groggy until after he gets showered and a cup of coffee. Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt he goes across the hallway and knocks on Stiles door. When it takes a minute before Derek hears any movement in the apartment he checks the time on his phone. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. Maybe Stiles is eating? Working? Napping?

Suddenly he hears the locks on the door opening and the door opens to reveal Derek’s worst nightmare. A sleep rumpled and soft eyed Stiles in plaid pajama pants and shirtless that he can do nothing about. Shamefully his first thought is about how his sweatpants are going to do nothing to hide his arousal at the sight.

“’lo’,” Stiles croaks, seemingly still half asleep.

Derek can’t even say anything before Stiles has turned away from the door and returns with Derek’s keys.

“’s still sleep time. I’ll text you. Later,” Stiles grumbles sleepily as he hands Derek his keys and shuts the door.

Derek stands there and listens to the locks click shut again in disappointed silence. He hadn’t even gotten his fill of Stiles’ sleep mused hair or the pillow creases on his face. As he gets himself in his apartment he laments the loss of another opportunity to see if Stiles wanted to eat with him again. But maybe Stiles is working at night and sleeping in the day? If that’s the case Derek doesn’t want Stiles not to get sleep but he can’t help but think his next few days of errands, sleep and Netflix alone aren’t going to be as entertaining as they used to be. Because for the first time in a long time there’s someone Derek wants to spend his time with instead of being alone.

>>>> <<<<

It’s been a few weeks since he was ordered to stop looking for Kate Argent and stumbled home to be put into bed by his crush. He’s been given a few cases since then; basic, straightforward kinds of situations that he works with Detective Boyd instead of Reyes.

It’s been a few weeks of odd glances from Reyes and his captain. As if they know he’s still monitoring for any appearance of Katherine Argent anywhere in a hundred mile radius of Lakeville. He doesn’t expect to come to work and have Erica pull him in to an interrogation room and sit across from him ready to question him.

He hasn’t done anything wrong. Other than misuse work resources to find out about Stiles. Stiles. Shit.

But as much as he’s mildly freaking out internally he keeps his calm, cool, collected expression on his face.

“This is just a formality,” she starts, “because I don’t think you’re tech savvy enough to have pulled this off. No offense.”

Derek shrugs because he still doesn’t actually know what she’s talking about yet. He watches her shuffle her papers around to get them in the right order before she starts explaining.

“You’re aunt, Rachel Hale, and cousin, Tyler Hale were killed in a fire. A fire that was determined to be arson but while the Argent siblings were suspected nothing could be proven.”

“That’s correct,” Derek agrees when she looks up at him to confirm.

“You have not, over the past month, been anonymously sending this precinct evidence and leads for that cold case.”

“That’s correct,” Derek confirms and lets his surprise show because, what?

“You knew nothing of this development on the case and haven’t reopened a case with such personal ties unauthorized.”

“Of course not,” he asserts. He wouldn’t in the first place and didn’t in the second. And it has nothing to do with knowing a certain brown eyed boy who has been doing just what Erica described.

“That concludes the official line of questioning,” Erica says and Derek sees both the camera in the corner shut off and her audio recorder stop.

He nearly winces when her face splits into a wide grin.

“Now the fun questions. Did you hire someone to solve this case?”

“No.”

“Do you know who might have motive to have the case solved, outside of yourself?”

“You mean besides my family and the families of her other victims in her recent murder spree? No, no one specific.”

“So, who is Przemysław Alec Stilinski?”

Damn it. Damn, shit, fuck. Wait.

“Kate sent him things when she was in jail.”

Truth. Just enough truth to ‘officially’ not be involved. Good thing he subpoenaed her jail records and the letters to the Stilinski house were documented. Also a good thing he did his due diligence and called Beacon Hills PD to verify Stiles’ story about his father’s murder.

“I looked into who he was and it turns out his dad was the Beacon Hills Sheriff. I was still in New York when he was killed in the line of duty. He was looking into the fire that killed my Aunt, I’m assuming you know that.”

Erica nods and her suspicious look has started to fade from her features.

“So why keep looking at the kid?”

“We don’t know what she mailed him. Threats? Or instructions? Was he an accomplice or another victim? I didn’t find anything though. He disappeared after the last letter was mailed to him.”

Derek shrugs again feigning indifference.

“It wasn’t as important as the fresh bodies we were getting so I stopped looking.”

Erica eyes him with suspicion again before lurching forward leaning across the table to get right in Derek’s face.

“You’re telling the truth. Just maybe not the whole truth. I _will_ find out what you’re not telling me Hale.”

She turns so fast her hair fans out and smacks him in the face as she leaves. He blinks in surprise at her quick exit and decides that even if she does find out, it hopefully won’t matter. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong. Comforting himself once again in the fact that he is, in fact, innocent of any wrong doing, he gets back to work. 

 

>>>> <<<<

After that Derek gets thrown on nights and then has to pick up shifts to help since Erica is out with the flu. He still texts Stiles at least once a day or every other day. Derek can only imagine having to be in self-imposed isolation for months on end. He’d probably go crazy.

He quickly learns that while it looks like Stiles may have gone a little crazy locked up alone in the apartment, Stiles has always been eccentric. They talk about random things; things that aren’t Kate Argent or Derek’s family or the case Stiles is putting together.

Their conversations are erratic from Derek’s odd hours so it’s not all that unusual that Stiles hasn’t texted him back for 15 hours.

Having to wait for two whole days for Stiles to respond, however isn’t normal.

Even more odd, when he does get a text after waiting a couple days is that it’s a request for Derek to _do_ something.

It’s been a month since they met and they’ve always just exchanged random stories about themselves or jokes dug up from the internet or memes from their favorite shows and movies.

Stiles has never asked for anything but information until now and Derek thinks that’s why he gets a little anxious after reading the text.

**Really sick. Could use your help. >>**

So if he drives home just a little bit faster than normal, who’s to know? He goes to his apartment first to change and grab his first aid kit. It’s all packed with the emergency stuff of course but all his cold and flu medicines and remedies are all in the small duffle bag as well.

After he gets dressed in sweats, a Henley, and his slippers, he gets a bottle of Gatorade out of his fridge, his keys, phone and the kit before he heads out the door. He’s got his door locked behind himself and is knocking on the door when he thinks if Stiles was sick enough to ask for help, he might be sick enough to not be able to get up and let Derek in.

Derek knocks again after his only greeting is silence for a few moments. He can hear something move just inside the door so he calls out Stiles’ name and tries the door handle.

To his surprise – it’s open. He definitely had Stiles pegged as a multiple locks type person.  

“Stiles?” he tries again as he eases the door open slowly. He sees Stiles curled up on the floor, a blanket haphazardly covering him. Derek has half a breath to dodge forward before there’s a gun in his face and he straightens slowly, slaying his fingers out without dropping the Gatorade or the bag.

“Stiles, it’s me. It’s Derek. I promise.”

Stiles hand is shaky and his eyes are barely open as he holds the gun on Derek for another moment longer before he drops it. Derek shuts the door behind him quickly and rushes forward to kneel down next to Stiles. He checks the gun, making sure the safety is on, before removing it from Stiles’ loose fingers.

Derek knows the moment he puts the back of his hand to Stiles’ forehead that he’s feverish. Too feverish. It’s easy, with the adrenaline of the situation to scoop Stiles’ slight form into his arms and turn to deposit him on a couch.

But when he looks up and actually takes in the room around him he realizes there is no couch. There is no living room furniture at all. Instead the room is furnished as a bedroom. There’s a big queen sized bed with a nightstand along the far wall, a dresser and a chest of drawers. The dresser, situated across from the bed even has a small tv perched on top.

He doesn’t stop to think about it all just yet, choosing to get Stiles situated on the edge of the bed first. He rushes back to his bag, digging around for his thermometer. Holding it under Stiles’ tongue to get an accurate reading Derek waits impatiently for the little beeps. But once it does he’s faced with another decision.

Stiles’ body temperature is 104oF.

Which Derek knows is considered a dangerously high fever. But he has to counter it with the fact that Derek can’t take Stiles to a hospital. At least, he assumes Stiles wouldn’t appreciate being taken from his safe haven to a hospital and having his cover possibly blown. He waffles between his two options for a full minute before Stiles stirs half awake.

Knowing Stiles is asleep and not unconscious and unresponsive makes the decision for him. He reaches down and shakes Stiles the rest of the way awake.

“Stiles? Stiles, wake up. I need you to take something for your fever.”

“Mmhmm,” he hears Stiles respond under his breath.

Derek darts into the kitchen area, irrationally pleased when Stiles cups and glasses are in the cupboard next to the sink where they belong. He grabs a cup and quickly fills it with cool water, pausing on his way back to the bed only to grab both the Advil and the Tylenol. It’s a race to get the medicine in Stiles before he falls back asleep.

In truth though, after he gets the fever relievers and a glass of water in Stiles, Derek is glad for his slumber. Although it would have been less creepy if Stiles was at least partially conscious and able to give consent, it’s easier to peel off Stiles’ sweaty t-shirt without having to listen to him complain or resist.

But then he feels even more invasive searching around Stiles’ bathroom for his linens. Luckily they’re in the first place he looks and Derek grabs towels and a clean sheet before shutting the door. He gets a couple of the towels wet with the coldest water he can manage before wringing them out leaving them cold and damp. He takes the towels and the sheet back to Stiles hurriedly.

As he starts applying the cool towels, Derek is very happy that Stiles is asleep because now he can’t bitch about the cold. Derek would. He wraps the ice cold towels around Stiles’ bare torso and rolls up the second one and wraps it around the back of Stiles’ neck. Finally Derek digs around in Stiles freezer until he finds a gel ice pack and then does the same in his duffel bag and finds a quick break ice pack. Once they’re both cold he puts them behind Stiles’ knees and throws the sheet over him.

Derek knows that even in sleep, Stiles is probably supremely uncomfortable. It’s something Derek knows about firsthand having succumbed to heatstroke one summer playing baseball. Playing on a field in a valley, with no wind on a 90oFday, in black jerseys was not a good mix. Derek and two other players nearly passed out by the 7th inning. He has not so fond memories of being wrapped up in a blanket filled with ice.

He’s also pretty sure his mother wanted to smack him after 10 minutes of him whining about the cold.

So, given Stiles has lots of cold things pressed to not so pleasant areas, Derek is pretty happy he’s asleep. Content to read the new book he put on his phone, Derek settles into a chair at the kitchen table to wait for the cooling treatments to work on Stiles’ body. He reads for 20 minutes before checking Stiles’ temperature again. It’s been twenty minutes of watching him fidget and frown and wrinkle his nose. It was alarming how hard it was to not find it adorable.

He doesn’t expect to see a huge change in Stiles fever, but when he places the thermometer under his tongue a second time it reads slightly lower at 103.8oF. Satisfied his methods are helping, Derek replaces the cool towels with fresh ones and returns the ice pack to the freezer for a bit. Then, since has nothing to do but wait for Stiles to both wake up and have his fever break, Derek looks around.

He’s curious, and a police officer after all, so he tries to learn as much as he can from his surroundings. Derek knows this apartment is set up similar to his own; it’s a mirror image of his apartment’s layout. The kitchen is normal, the dining room has a treadmill and a rowing machine as well as a set of weights, and the living room is clearly where Stiles sleeps.

Given the givens, Derek has to wonder what’s in the bedroom. He grabs the first set of towels and walks down the hallway, pausing outside the bathroom thinking about what could be in the bedroom.

Derek shakes himself after a moment though and walks in to hang the wet towels over the shower rod to dry out. He’s already invaded Stiles’ space enough; if the door is closed Derek will leave it alone until Stiles wants to show him. If Stiles ever wants to show him. Walking back into the main room Derek looks between the kitchen chairs and the space next to Stiles on the bed in indecision.

He decides his comfort while he waits outweighs his discomfort of invading Stiles personal space. He grabs a bottle of water and the Tylenol before crawling on the bed next to Stiles. Now he has another problem though, now he has to watch Stiles fret in his sleep up close. 

Derek didn’t think it would be this big of a problem, just texting the guy next door. Except he probably should have anticipated _feelings_ occurring the more they talked and got to know each other. Because now Derek knows that Stiles isn’t just painfully adorable, but intelligent, kind of nerdy, still hurting over being an orphan, and kind of an asshole. So the meaningless initial crush on Stiles’ good looks has somehow morphed into a real crush with real feelings for the boy next door.

Wow, Derek’s life hasn’t been this clichéd since he lived in New York City and as a cop ate bagels for breakfast and pizza for supper from street vendors.

Instead of overanalyzing his feelings he settles back onto the pillows and starts reading again, content to wait for Stiles to wake up. He doesn’t have to work for the next two days, so sitting here reading isn’t all that different from sitting in his apartment across the hall reading.

He gets so caught up in his reading that he doesn’t notice Stiles slowly waking up.

“It’s cold,” he croaks out and Derek fumbles his phone when he startles at Stiles’ voice.

He looks down and sees Stiles’ little smirk at Derek’s reaction. Derek crawls off the bed and walks around to stand next to Stiles’ side and pick up the thermometer.

“Yeah, you’re body isn’t cold though. Open up.”

Stiles quirks an eyebrow at him but opens his mouth obligingly so Derek can find out what his temperature is now. Moments later it beeps and Derek reads 103.2oF in the little display.

“Better?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods and puts the thermometer back on the end table.

“Yeah, better. Think you can drink some more water or would you rather have Gatorade?”

“What colors do I get to choose from?”

“Classic colors, duh.”

“Perfect, blue, please.”

Derek snorts as he walks over to the fridge to pull out a cool drink for Stiles.

“You’re very polite when you’re sick.”

He turns back around and sees Stiles shrug as he struggles to sit up and peel the damp towel off his chest.

“You came to help.”

Derek shakes his head at him after handing him the drink.

“Of course I came. Although, now that I think about it, what have you done in the past when you got this sick?”

Stiles takes a long pull from the bottle before he answers, smacking his lips.

“I _haven’t_ gotten this sick before. I’d get a cough every now and again but mostly that’s from not dusting and then dusting everything. Pretty sure this is your fault. I must have gotten some germ from you or your apartment because I’ve been in this apartment for months and I’ve never been this sick.”

Derek winces because, really, Stiles is probably right. Derek brought in a whole slew of new germs to Stiles environment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes but Stiles shakes his head a little.

“Nah, I don’t regret it.”

“Regret what?” Derek asks, confused.

“Regret meeting you,” Stiles says sleepily as his eyes start to droop shut again.

“You don’t have to stay, y’know? I’m just going to be sleeping.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“Not really, but you probably have things to do.”

Derek shakes his head even though Stiles can’t see it because his eyes have shut and he stopped fighting to keep them open.

“As long as you’re okay with me sitting on the bed instead of the kitchen chair, I’ll stay.”

Stiles nods as he shuffles back down to lay flat on the bed.

“Wake me up when I need to take more Tylenol, ‘k?”

“Yeah, I will Stiles,” Derek answers but Stiles is already asleep.

>>><<< 

Later, after Stiles’ fever is nearly gone he wakes up for a while and they get to talk. Derek makes him soup and Stiles tells him about how his mom. She couldn’t cook apparently so everything was out of a package or a can. And if they were lucky she’d just order take out and have it delivered. Of course all the salt and fats in the processed foods didn’t help his father’s cholesterol numbers and after her death Stiles had learned to cook trying to keep the man healthy.

After eating Stiles wraps his blanket around his shoulders and grabs Derek by the hand from where he stood at the sink doing the dishes to pull him down the hallway. Derek stops him before he can open the door though.

“You don’t have to show me, Stiles. At least, don’t feel like you’re obligated or anything. If you want to explain more you can but you don’t have to.”

Stiles looks at him, face serious and sincere when he says, “I trust you.”

Derek should have expected it really but it’s still a surprise when Stiles opens the door and Derek takes in the room. The room looks like a proper computer villain lair. The blinds are closed and there’s a huge desk straight in front of the door. The desk has a single wireless keyboard and mouse sitting in front of no less than four monitors.

To one side the wall is a mess of papers and pictures and notes all tacked up and connected with string. The other side of the room has a table with a singular monitor with another wireless keyboard and mouse in front of it. The screens are all dark but Stiles just shuffles into the room and wiggles a mouse and they all come to life.

The computer off to the side is surveillance cameras, outside his door, in the kitchen and dining room areas, the hallway, the living room and the bedroom. The main set of computers have programs running in the background of each monitor. Not completely understanding what he’s seeing he just waits for Stiles to explain.

“This is where the magic happens,” he starts but sways a little where he stands and Derek steps forward quickly to steady him.

“Whoa,” Stiles says lightly bringing a hand up to hold his no doubt spinning head. “Apparently I need to go back to laying down.”

Derek agrees and they get him back on his bed in the living room so he can actually explain. They both get situated on the bed with Derek sitting and Stiles laying down, his fatigue making him near sleep already.

“Remember how I said I work from home? Well, I still work from home as a programmer because all I need to do my job is a computer. My life has been a big dumb monotonus cycle. I get up, eat breakfast, run or row, shower, work until lunch, eat, work until supper, eat, gather evidence on Kate Argent. At least that was the way it was for the first couple months. Turns out when you seclude yourself away in an apartment and don’t do anything but investigate, you can get shit done really fast. So for the most part, I have everything for the case, and for the longest time it was just the waiting game, waiting for Kate to make her move.”

“I got sick right after you moved in. That apartment had been empty since forever and I wanted to know who would be across the hall from me. Once I found out your last name and you were Peter’s nephew I was excited. Then you made me leave the building for that fire and I did a little bit more research. Like I told you that first time I came over, I was so lonely, Derek. I’m surprised I didn’t go crazy not having any human contact for months on end.”

“Not to sound like I just wanted to use you, but before we started talking, really talking, I just thought about how, well, useful it was that you were a cop and knew the case and would have my back if I needed it. I didn’t really anticipate liking you as much as I do. Nor did I think you Kate would show up and start killing a whole bunch of people, I will say that much.”

“And even if it’s under the weirdest circumstances,” Stiles says dozing off again. “I am glad I met you, Derek.”

Once again Derek finds himself glad for Stiles slumber. He doesn’t know how to tell Stiles how much he’s been affected too since meeting Stiles. He ponders if he could have survived like Stiles did. Working from his apartment, using direct deposit to get paid, using the internet for food and every other necessity. He thinks about not talking to his sister, or driving home to see his mom. He thinks about if he couldn’t just sit with Cora or be smothered in hugs from Laura.

He sits there and reads on his phone, only sneaking glances at Stiles’ peaceful face. The next time Stiles wakes up his fever is completely gone and Derek has no more reason to stay. He goes home trying not to dwell too much on some of the things Stiles told him.

>>>> <<<<

After helping Stiles, something shifted in their relationship. Their conversations seem to have more meaning and more frequency. Derek still has to go to work and put up with Erica giving him odd looks every few days. And Stiles still has to put in his hours of programming in his apartment during the day. But now, instead of going home to supper alone, most of the time he brings supper and shares it with Stiles.

Sometimes they even sit on the couch right next to each other and eat and watch old movies. It’s great. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife but it’s still great. Derek will make popcorn which Stiles will throw at the TV. And Stiles has a commentary on everything and anything they watch but Derek doesn’t think he’s ever learned so much.

It’s downright domestic and Derek doesn’t want it to end. They haven’t really defined what they are. They’re real proper friends now though. They hang out and bicker and laugh together and everything. But Derek still thinks there’s something else there. He can’t help but wonder if Stiles is waiting for something.

It’s been a few blissful weeks of such activities when it all comes crumbling down.

Derek’s at work when he gets the text from Stiles. Actually the whole precinct gets a text.

**Kate Argent. Fairview Place Apartments #602. Bring Backup. >>**

It feels like hours but Derek knows rationally it only takes them minutes to get to his apartment building. He runs into his building and over to the elevator closely followed by the backup Stiles requested. So him and six other cops are squeezed in the small space as it races to the top floor. They hustle out of the elevator when the doors open on his and Stiles’ floor, nearly sprinting down the hallway. He bursts through the open door, gun drawn and stops dead at the sight in front of him. His backup fans out in the apartment searching for other threats and Derek can hear Boyd radioing in for an ambulance as he approaches Kate.

But his eyes are on Stiles’ busted lip and bruised face. Derek can hardly see past Stiles holding his middle like his ribs hurt with one arm and with the other has his gun still aimed at Kate Argent. Kate Argent who is sprawled across the floor, chest heaving through the pain of the bullet in her shoulder and hand reaching for her weapon. Derek walks over and kicks the gun away from her grasping fingers before turning to Stiles.

“Stiles,” he says in a low voice, trying to appear calm. He holsters his weapon and raises his hands.

“Stiles lower your weapon. Boyd has her,” Derek tries to sooth.

Stiles is still standing there, trembling slightly but his face is set in determination as he continues to stare at Kate.

“It was self-defense,” he asserts before lowering his hand, setting the safety on his gun and blindly handing it to an officer that was creeping up next to him.

“I know, Stiles. I believe you,” Derek assures him as he steps closer, hoping Stiles will let him in his space.

“If-if you give me a minute,” Stiles sniffs, “I have footage of everything.”

Derek nods and steps forward so he’s standing right in front of Stiles now. The EMT’s are behind him and now that he’s blocking Stiles’ view, Stiles finally looks up at him.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks quietly, unable to resist bringing a hand up to cradle the uninjured side of Stiles’ face.

Stiles nods slightly without dislodging Derek’s hand and leans into the touch.

“Yeah, it probably looks worse than it feels. But I think I need my ribs x-rayed. I can’t tell if it’s broken or just really, really bruised.”

“Okay,” Derek nods, all for Stiles being taken in and being looked at by medical professionals. “After you get the surveillance tapes, right?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Stiles agrees, turning and walking away from the kitchen towards the bedroom and his computers. Derek follows along and listens to Stiles continue.

“Surveillance tapes, hospital, questioning from Detective Reyes, and then back home to clean up the blood on my kitchen floor.”

Derek put together that puzzle piece a long time ago. Stiles was clearly the one sending Erica leads and evidence of Kate’s involvement in both the fire and his father’s murder. Since she’s already verified and investigated the ‘anonymous’ evidence, Stiles is officially simply a victim. And with the surveillance footage and the history of threats it won’t be questioned whether Stiles actions today were self-defense or not.

Derek watches Stiles fiddle around on a computer for barely thirty seconds before he turns around, DVD in hand and says completely straight-faced how the next 24 hours are going to go.

“Then I’m going to sleep in your apartment with you and when we wake up tomorrow you’re going to take me out on a date.”

Gone is the shaken looking victim Derek walked in on in the living room and in his place is a determined, steady survivor staring at Derek like he’s daring him to disagree. Not that Derek wants to disagree with anything he’s said. Boyd pauses looking between Derek and Stiles, because apparently he followed them into the room, before he shakes his head, takes the DVD from Stiles and puts it in an evidence envelope.

“You sure picked a bossy one, Derek.”

Derek half turns and yells after him, “This coming from the man dating Reyes?”

“Shut up Hale,” comes from the hall as Boyd continues to walk away.

Derek turns back to Stiles, smirk on his face as he crowds him against the nearest wall. He watches in hardly restrained glee when Stiles’ eyes dilate and his breath hitches ever so slightly.

“I’m game,” Derek rumbles quietly, happily. “Is this what you've been waiting for?"

Stiles nods.

"So now that it's over, and you don't have to hide from Kate anymore we're doing this?"

Another nod.

Derek smiles then, confident and bold.

"So, is that the whole plan?”

Stiles eyes actually sparkle in amusement as his lips turn up in a smile before he reaches up with one hand and threads his fingers into Derek’s hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close.

“Nope,” he says, popping those stupid perfect lips on the ‘p’. “When we get back from dinner I’m gonna fuck you into your mattress and probably tell you I love you.”

Derek smiles widely in his honest excitement, the terror and worry of the last twenty minutes melting into pure happiness. It’s natural to bring his hands up to hold Stiles’ face again.

“Me too, Stiles,” Derek admits before kissing him softly and Derek was right. Those lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be.

 

“I’ll probably tell you, I love you too.”

>>>><<<<

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not my best, not my worst. Definitely not what I thought I'd work on but it's done and out of my WIP folder :) 
> 
> Leave comments and kudos if you liked it, it makes my day :) 
> 
> Also, come talk to me on my [tumblr](http://acountrygirlsfun.tumblr.com/) pretty please.


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